Such Stuff as Dreams
by VampLover1
Summary: Sookie is troubled by her recent strange dreams. What could they possibly mean? Use your inner Freud to try and make sense of Sookie's mind! Spoilers for all books, follows DAG Chapter 1. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Dreams

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Charlaine Harris' characters or stories.

**Such Stuff as Dreams **

"**We are such stuff as dreams are made on; **

**and our own little life is rounded with a sleep."**

**The Tempest****, William Shakespeare**

_**Chapter 1: Dreams**_

It's almost always the same dream. I am running away from a dog that is chasing me, and I am naked. I'm carrying my cell phone so I try to call for help, but the phone doesn't work. I keep running until the dog no longer follows me. I pass by a gentle stream and see a beautiful statue of what must surely be a god. I stare and admire the statue but it suddenly lifts up into the sky and flies away from me. I am unsure of where to go and what to do until I spy a small airport ahead of me. I go inside the terminal and try to buy a plane ticket. The desk attendant asks me for money as payment but I have none. I keep begging her to let me on the plane but while we are arguing, the plane leaves without me and I am filled with despair. I run back outside but it is now storming, so I just stand there: cold, wet, naked, penniless, clutching a broken cell phone, figuring that things can't get _any_ worse. Wrong! Suddenly _my teeth_ start to fall out… and then I wake up.

Why do I keep dreaming this bizarre series of events and what does it all mean? Who knows? Maybe if I was some brilliant college student studying abnormal psychology and I had all the time in the world to analyze it, I would have a clue. But I'm not; I'm Sookie Stackhouse, a simple telepathic barmaid from Bon Temps, Louisiana, just trying to make ends meet, and not always doing such a great job of it.

What I _do_ know is that I am physically and mentally exhausted. Since my boss and good friend, Sam, left to go back home to care for his mom, I have been working double shifts at Merlotte's, helping to manage his bar. What should have been just a few days of helping out has turned into three weeks of stress. The last time I spoke to Sam he promised me it wouldn't be too much longer before his return. In the meantime, though, it's really hard work being a waitress, manager, accountant, and stock room worker seven days a week.

My witchy roommates, Amelia and Octavia, are fed up with me; I am moody all of the time (and sexually frustrated); I'm tired from a lack of restful sleep; my brother and I are still not on speaking terms; and I'm worried about repercussions from the recent Great Reveal (the weres and shape shifters of the world just 'came out of the forest', so to speak).

And don't even get me started about the vampires in my life. A certain Viking vampire with whom I have a "complicated" relationship and bond has been scarce these past three months. I'm sure he has a lot to deal with as the Sheriff of Area Five, given the political takeover of my state by a new vampire King. But our phone conversations have been short and infrequent, and our face-to-face time is, for lack of a better word, nonexistent. That's alright though, because we are long overdue for a conversation that I _really_ don't want to have. I think about Eric often, though, and in more intimate ways than I'd like to admit. Pam, his vampire child and my somewhat friend, periodically stops by Merlotte's to "chat" but I know it is probably Eric's way of checking up on me. These days I am under King Felipe de Castro's protection, which is a good thing given my tendency to end up in dangerous situations involving vampires and other supernatural beings. But I digress. Back to my dreams…

"Sookie, wake up," I could hear Amelia say as she shook me awake from yet another night of fitful sleep. "Wake up! You were talking in your sleep again and you seemed really upset this time."

I sat up with a start, confused at first by my surroundings but then I slowly realized I was at home, safe in my own bed. I felt worn out, however; it had been weeks since I had a decent night's sleep.

"Was it the same dream again?" Amelia asked curiously.

"Yes, mostly," I mumbled, "but a few things were different this time. It always seems so real, though." I was getting fed up with these recurring dreams and at a loss to fully understand them.

Amelia was excited, however. "Well, we're going to figure out what it all means, Sookie. I found some books at the library this week that help interpret dreams. We're going to write everything down that you can remember so I can make sense of it all for you!" Amelia could hardly contain her enthusiasm.

Now I don't know the first thing about dream interpretation but I certainly didn't hold much stock in it. "Oh, you don't _really_ believe any of that stuff, do you, Amelia?" I asked. "It's all psycho babble, don't ya think?" But from a quick glimpse into my roommate's thoughts, it was evident that yes, she really _did _believe that stuff.

"Oh, Sookie, after all you've come to know and understand this past year, how could you be so closed-minded about this?" Amelia asked incredulously. "Especially as a telepath, you _know_ that the human mind is capable of many things. Besides, it's a proven fact that many people have the same common dreams and that frequent symbols appear to have significance." Amelia sounded quite proud of her newfound knowledge.

She continued. "Carl Jung felt that our unconscious selves share common things with all humans and reveal our deepest wishes and desires. And Sigmund Freud, well, he was all about sex. He thought dreams were erotic in meaning, like secret wish-fulfillment, and that they were filled with symbolism," she added.

Hmm… so I secretly wished to lose my teeth in a rainstorm? Pretty sexy stuff.

I sighed as I got out of bed. It annoyed me that my roommate was so anxious to dissect the workings of my unconscious (or is it subconscious?) mind; but since I was at a loss to understand it, and my dreams were becoming troublesome to me, I indulged her. "Well, since you have nothing better to do, you can psychoanalyze my dreams all you want, but only _after_ I shower and grab a cup of coffee."

"But you'll forget everything by then! Just in the few minutes you've been avoiding this, I'll bet half of what you dreamed is already gone!" Amelia said in an exasperated tone.

"Well, too bad," I replied crankily. "I'm sure I'll have the same dream again tonight and we can regroup then, okay? For now, a shower and coffee are my priorities. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a little bit." I just couldn't deal with her perkiness right now, especially without coffee in my system.

"Fine," Amelia agreed reluctantly, "but please try to think about your dream while you're showering so that it stays fresh in your mind." With that, the witch left my room and I was left alone to wonder what exactly I was getting myself into.


	2. Questions

"**A dream is a microscope through which we look at**

**the hidden occurrences in our soul."**

**Erich Fromm**

_**Chapter 2: Questions**_

Twenty minutes later, I had showered and was sitting at my kitchen table, coffee mug in hand. The shower had not been as refreshing as I had hoped; my pleasant memories of a shower shared with a sexy blonde vampire had gotten me all hot and bothered, and I ended up needing to drench myself in cold water.

Amelia sat across from me and Octavia was cleaning up breakfast dishes at the sink. I felt self-conscious having Octavia there listening to our conversation, but I made the best of it. It would simply be bad manners to ask her to leave the kitchen-- the price you pay for having roommates I suppose.

"Okay, Sookie, let's begin," Amelia chirped. Next to her she had a small, wire bound black notebook with a pen which she pushed across the table to me. "This is going to be your dream journal. Keep it next to your bed and try to write down all the details you can remember as soon as you wake from a dream. Even if the events are the same, try to list more specifics each time if you can." This was definitely going to be more work than I expected.

I nodded in agreement and she continued. "Why don't you tell me about last night's dream and I'll take my own notes, for research purposes," she clarified. This last line caught the attention of Octavia, who then joined us at the table to listen to my story.

I told them all I could remember, starting with the chasing dog part and ending with the teeth falling out part. Amelia scribbled down notes furiously and they both looked a little bit stunned when I finished my tale.

"Well, that was _interesting_," Amelia concluded, trying her best to be tactful for once. I made myself stay out of their heads because I didn't think I could handle knowing what they really thought. But Octavia decided to put in her two-cents worth. "I don't need to know what's going on in your personal life, Sookie, but this sure sounds like you've got some real problems weighing on you. I could conjure up a spell if you want to stop the dreams for a while. Maybe you'll get caught up on some sleep that way."

Just as the tired part of me was considering her tempting proposal, she added, "of course that doesn't solve anything. The problems will still be there to deal with, you know. Your mind is telling you things that you don't want to see with your own eyes." She got up from the table and before she left the kitchen, she told me to think about her offer.

Sensing the need to lighten the mood, Amelia tried to project excitement and enthusiasm for the task at hand. "Now Sookie, I have some questions about what you just told me. If you can't remember the details, just write the questions down in the journal and maybe you can answer them the next time you dream."

"Fine, Amelia," I replied. "Let's just get on with this already." I took a few sips of coffee for some liquid courage. I was starting to have some misgivings about where this was all headed. Maybe tonight's dream would be about the joy and peace I could find in living life alone, without any roommates. I wondered how Amelia would interpret _that_.

"You said that sometimes the dream is a little different," Amelia began. "What changes?"

I had to think about it. "Well, it's not always an airplane in an airport. Sometimes I'm at a station and it's a bus or a train that I miss." Strange, huh?

"So what kind of dog was chasing you?" she continued. Involuntarily, my heart started racing. "Why does that matter?" I asked. Dreaming about a dog in itself had to be more important than the breed of dog, right?

"_Everything_ matters, Sookie! Was the dog friendly or mean? Was he growling or barking? Was he running or jumping? All of these details are important since they symbolize different things," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well if I was being chased, how could he be a friendly dog? And who gets chased by a jumping dog? Of course he was running, just like I was!" I said a little too forcefully. "And I think it was… a collie," I added a bit more quietly.

"A collie?" Amelia asked me, with a knowing look. I guess I should add that my boss Sam is a true shape shifter who, coincidentally, often changes in form to a collie. "Yep," was my witty reply. She wrote something down.

"Let's move on to the cell phone. What color was it?" I looked at her quizzically and she informed me that colors have significance in dreams.

My response: "Red." Her response: "_Very_ interesting…" and she jotted down some additional notes.

"Tell me more about the statue, Sookie. Did you recognize the 'god-like' figure before it flew away?" She had a big smile on her face at this point.

Okay, I'm not stupid. You don't need a psychology degree to realize who the collie and flying statue _might_ represent in my life. But why would I be dreaming about Sam and Eric in this way? And what did everything else mean? The fact that I kept having the same dream over and over had to be important, right?

Amelia was persistent and I continued to cooperate through her multitude of questions regarding the rest of my dream. And the many questions I couldn't answer were written down in my journal for future pondering. The particulars she wanted to know were simply mind-boggling to me: the direction I was running, how hard it was raining, the type of airplane I saw, if others knew I was naked, how many teeth I lost, and on and on and on. Who knew when you had a dream that you were supposed to notice every specific detail?

Amelia was positively giddy by the time we finished. "I have to say, Sookie, this is going to be easier to interpret than I thought!" Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm an open book in the dream department, I guess. "I'm certainly no expert in dream analysis, but I am _sure_ the solution to your problems has to do with Eric," she concluded proudly. Ya think? "Keep up with the journal and we can talk again in a few days for me to add to my research." Then she looked me squarely in the eyes: "And Sookie, please be honest about _everything_ that you remember. It's important." She bounced up from the kitchen table, grabbed her notes and what looked like some sort of "dream dictionary" from the counter, and then Hurricane Amelia was gone.

I sat at the table, clutching my coffee mug, questions swirling in my head. I looked in my new journal at the questions to be further explored and then an idea hit me. Maybe I should write my own thoughts and questions in the journal, stuff not only about my dreams, but sort of like a diary. I had only briefly kept a diary when I was a teenager but had quickly lost interest back then; yet, the idea of putting my worries down on paper intrigued me now. If what I was dreaming was indeed related to concerns in my waking life, then what better way to explore those issues?

I didn't want Amelia to see these private entries, though, in case she needed to read through my journal for her "research." It seemed wrong to place my diary entries in a different journal, however, since the ideas were supposedly all interrelated. I decided to start my personal writings about halfway through the thick notebook. A quick glance at the beginning dream entry pages and you would never think to look farther in the book for more writings.

Okay, where to begin… Eric, of course. Was he actually the solution to my problems, as Amelia pointed out, or was he more likely the root cause? What were my true feelings for him, anyway? Love? Lust? A little of both? Could a relationship between us actually work? What about the damn blood bond? And of course, the million dollar question: how did _Eric_ feel about things? I started to write down my thoughts and then the words just kept flowing. Before I knew it, I had written a full three pages and would have continued if the phone hadn't interrupted my creative process.

"Hello?" I asked a bit hesitantly, hoping it was good news. Since I don't have Caller ID, I'm probably one of the few people left in the world who is actually surprised to find out who the caller is when I answer a phone.

"Sookie, it's Sam. You doin' alright, cher?" I was happy to hear from him and it was a relief because he sounded less strained and more like his old self. "I'm great, Sam. And things are just fine at the bar. Don't you worry."

He certainly didn't need any more problems right now. Sam's mom had revealed her true shifter nature several weeks earlier during the Great Reveal and the outcome had been less than desirable. Under circumstances still unclear, Sam's stepfather had shot Sam's mother twice, resulting in a shattered collarbone and a wound to her shoulder. She was recovering nicely after her hospital stay but there was the question of whether criminal charges were going to be filed against her husband. I wondered how things would work out now for their marriage but I didn't want to get too personal and ask Sam outright.

"I know I left things in good hands, I'm not worried," he replied. "And I can't thank you enough for helping to run things, Sook. I hope to be in Bon Temps by the end of the week and then things can get back to normal." We talked a few more minutes about recent personnel additions, some inventory issues, and upcoming bills before we said our goodbyes.

The sudden relief I felt was immense. I could see light at the end of the tunnel. If I could just hold on for the week, then things would get better. I would be able to work less, sleep more, and think more clearly. Would my crazy dreams change because of this? Or better yet, would my dreams stop altogether? Better ask Freud.


	3. Changes

"**Things do not change; **_**we**_** change."**

**Henry David Thoreau**

_**Chapter 3: Changes**_

The dreams still continued that week but with some notable changes. The chasing dog was gone entirely and more, ahem, _sexual _elements started to become obvious. I would dutifully write down the dream details as soon as I awoke, somewhat embarrassed by the newest additions, but I included them since I had promised Amelia that I would be honest. Then I would continue my separate diary entries in the evening as time permitted, looking forward to bedtime just so I could put down my thoughts. I found the journal writing to be liberating, insightful, and addictive. Finally able to admit things on paper that I could never admit to myself before, I felt free to pour my heart out--my feelings, hopes, fears, and even my fantasies-- without worry of being judged or ridiculed.

First and foremost, I realized my feelings for Eric ran deeper than I would have liked. To be honest I wasn't really sure if the vampire whom I cared for and probably loved even existed, if that makes any sense. It was hard for me to reconcile the sweet, caring Eric who had lost his memory (the one with whom I had slept and showered); the sexy bad-ass sheriff I used to joke around with; and the dangerous and conflicted vampire to whom I was now blood-bonded. That blood connection led to more questions, all of which would have to be answered by Eric himself one day soon. And that day, and that _talk_, were things I dreaded.

I gave Amelia my journal several times during the week and she would skim the first section, looking for new details to look up and interpret. Her notes were quite plentiful by now and she wanted to meet sometime this weekend to go over what she had discovered. Amelia wouldn't give me any clues as to how she was progressing in her analysis, however. "Oh, you'll see soon enough," was all I could get out of her.

It was early Friday evening and I was driving home from work in pretty good spirits for a change. I had worked the early shift and now had the entire weekend off as a "thank-you" from Sam. He had returned to town that morning and I was surprised at how much I had missed him. When I had arrived at Merlotte's in the afternoon I was really happy to see him, and not just because of my improved work situation. We hugged real tight for a long time until it became a little awkward between us. I know Sam still has some romantic feelings for me but with all the complications in my life, it's easier for us to just remain friends.

Anyway, I started singing along with Taylor Swift on the radio as I drove back home, happy as a clam. I'm a sucker for love story songs like hers. Octavia was away for a few days to visit her nieces, and Amelia was hoping to spend most of the weekend with her boyfriend, Tray Dawson. Tray is a mechanic by trade but, as a favor to Sam, he has been tending bar at Merlotte's lately, too. Tray is also a Were, and a sexy one at that. I was glad that he and Amelia had hit it off. Plus, I liked the fringe benefit of Amelia spending a few nights each week away from the house.

I walked in the back door, surprised to see Amelia stirring some homemade spaghetti sauce on the stove. It smelled great and I noticed that the table was set for two, complete with wine glasses. "Hey Amelia… am I interrupting something?" I asked, figuring Tray would be along shortly.

Amelia seemed pleased to see me. "Actually, girlfriend, not at all. Tray is going to help out Sam tonight and I thought maybe we could have a Girl's Night for a change. You up for keeping me company? We could rent a movie or …" and here she casually added, "maybe we could have our _dream talk_ tonight?" Her eyes lit up with excitement. She definitely wanted to share her research and interpretations with me.

"Sure, why not?" I replied just as casually. I'll admit that my curiosity had gotten the better of me and I was a little anxious and excited to hear what Amelia had to say about my dreams. My journal writing this past week had led me to a few interpretations of my own. Would they be similar to those of the "experts"? I promised myself to try and be open-minded to what Amelia had to say.

We had a delicious dinner, complete with several glasses of merlot. By the time we finished clearing the dishes, I was feeling a little buzzed and quite relaxed. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this good. We refilled our glasses and had just settled on the living room couch when I heard the doorbell ring. Amelia quickly offered to answer it and bounced happily to the front door. Something was definitely up.

"Look who's here!" Amelia sang as she practically dragged Pam to where I was sitting. Oh, hell. I guess I never rescinded Pam's invitation to enter my house. Something else to put on my "to-do" list.

Pam had a mischievous smile on her face and Amelia looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. "Sookie," Pam smirked and I knew this was going to be a long evening.

"Ah… what brings you all the way to Bon Temps on a Friday evening, Pam?" I asked, trying to be courteous but instinctively knowing this wasn't just a spontaneous idea on her part.

"I heard you were having a 'Girl's Night' and didn't want to miss out on the fun," she said. "Besides, things are always so _surprising_ when I'm around you, Sookie," and she strolled over to the chair next to me. She was dressed in a pastel blue sweater twin set, crisp khakis and low boots: a chic soccer mom for sure.

I wasn't going to let her off so easily so I played along. "Aren't you needed at Fangtasia tonight? I'm surprised Eric could spare you on a Friday." Fangtasia is the Shreveport vampire bar that Eric owns and runs; Pam is a partner and absolute fixture at the bar, particularly on busy weekends.

"Oh, I needed a little time off," she purred. "And I thought what better place to spend it than in lovely Bon Temps with two dear friends?" Wow. She was really laying it on thick.

'Uh, uh," was all I could think to say. I sighed, resigned to my fate. "Can I get you a Trueblood? I think I have some A negative in the frig," I added, trying to be a good hostess. She nodded and I left for the kitchen to heat up a bottle.

When I returned to the living room, Amelia was coming down the stairs with her notes and books in hand. I handed Pam her drink and plopped myself down on the couch, deciding I needed a big sip of wine. "So, Pam," Amelia began innocently, "Sookie has been having some strange dreams lately and we were just about to try and understand them." Amelia placed her materials on the coffee table and sat down next to me.

"Oh, really?" Pam asked, not even trying to act surprised. "I find dream analysis so interesting," she said in an uninterested tone. She took a sip of her Trueblood and politely waited for a response.

"Okay, ladies," I said. "Obviously you had this all planned so let's drop the pretending, shall we? I guess you thought that 'interpreting Sookie's dreams' would be an amusing pastime, huh?" I was a bit huffy.

"Oh, don't be that way, Sookie!" Amelia huffed back. "I figured that Pam might have some great insight to add about Eric. Besides, she was actually alive, or well, _undead_, when Jung and Freud were coming up with their ideas!" Amelia was thoroughly impressed by this last point.

Pam piped in, a bit animated now. "In fact, Sookie, I heard a lecture that Freud presented in London back in the early 1920's and it was fascinating. All that talk about erotic meanings and how the images we dream are really penis and vagina symbols… it was quite shocking for the uptight humans of that time to accept, of course." She paused for a moment before adding, "Vampires do not dream at all but if we did, I am sure Freud would have had much to say about _my_ dreams." She laughed.

There was no way out of this so far as I could tell. I was outnumbered and had been outsmarted. And maybe Pam did have an alternate viewpoint to offer us. "Fine, but whatever we talk about tonight, stays _here_, understood?" I eyed them both sternly and they smiled in agreement delightedly. "I promise!" Amelia gushed. "Whatever happens at Sookie's, stays at Sookie's. You won't regret this!" I sure hoped not.

Before we could get started, Amelia asked me to get my journal in case she had a question about a dream detail. When I returned from my room with the notebook, she was updating Pam on her latest notes, including the recent changes in my dreams. Pam nodded knowingly. Damn. How much had Amelia told her before this evening? Everything, I was guessing.

"Ready?" Amelia asked, eyeing me skeptically and broadcasting her thoughts clearly to me. She was thinking that I was a big chicken who refused to see the obvious, and that I probably wouldn't believe anything she said tonight anyway.

I strengthened my resolve, told myself to suck it up, and smiled back at her. "Ready."

*****************************************************************************************

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me, readers. Next chapter: interpretation time!


	4. Meanings

"**A dream which is not interpreted is **

**like a letter which is not read."**

**The Talmud**

"_Ready?" Amelia asked, eyeing me skeptically and broadcasting her thoughts clearly to me. She was thinking that I was a big chicken who refused to see the obvious, and that I probably wouldn't believe anything she said tonight, anyway. _

_I strengthened my resolve, told myself to suck it up, and smiled back at her. "Ready."_

_**************************************************************************_

_**Chapter 4: Meanings **_

"Let's see… where to start…." Amelia mused.

"Let us start with that _dog_ you call your boss," Pam suggested and not too nicely either.

"I guess that's as good a place as any," Amelia agreed. "You said the dog was chasing you, Sookie. Well, that's a classic 'stress dream'; being chased means you feel like you have a lot of responsibilities which you're having a hard time managing. It's a sign to try to relax and slow down."

That actually made sense. My dreams had started around the same time Sam left me in charge of Merlotte's. And I had been _very_ stressed by the responsibilities of running the bar.

Amelia continued. "Didn't you say the dog in the dream went away this week? That seems important."

"Yes," I answered. "Sam called a few days ago to tell me he was coming back to Bon Temps soon and then I stopped dreaming about the chasing dog." Hmm.

Amelia smiled proudly, as if to say, 'See? Maybe there _is_ something to all of this.'

"And dogs symbolize friends, faithfulness, and loyalty," Amelia explained. "You probably think of Sam that way, even though he was the cause of your stress."

"Maybe the mongrel is chasing Sookie because he still desires her and she is trying to run away from his affections?" Pam suggested. "And you'll notice that the shifter causes her to run from him to a certain god-like statue, I believe?" Point taken.

"So why was I naked?" I asked, trying to shift our focus away from the damn statue for the time being.

Amelia consulted her notes for an explanation. "Nudity…hmmm… well, that can mean you feel vulnerable in your waking life. Maybe you're hiding something and feel like others will see right through you," Amelia said.

Well, the nudity explanation made _no_ sense to me at all. I had the feeling that dream interpretation was sort of like when you read your horoscope or are told your 'fortune,' and then you try to somehow twist what's happening in your life to match what you're told. Using that logic… I guess I might feel _vulnerable_ in a relationship with Eric. I guess I was _hiding_ my feelings for Eric. I guess I would like to get _naked _with Eric. Ah, now I see the connection.

"Let's move on," I said, but I knew Pam would never let an opportunity pass her by to talk about my nudity. "Sookie, did you feel ashamed or embarrassed about being naked in the dream?" Now that was an interesting question. My naked dream-self didn't seem overly self-conscious like my real-life self would be.

"No, not especially. And it seemed like no one else even noticed I was naked," I replied.

"Jung would say that's because you have nothing to hide and are proud of who you are," Pam concluded. Where did she learn that? "You must have an inner desire to be your 'true self' around… the naked statue," she added dryly.

Back to the damn statue again. There was no way to avoid it.

"So you said the statue was beautiful, like a god, and you admired it before it flew away, right?" Amelia asked and I nodded. "And my notes say that the statue was naked and, um, '_plentifully _endowed'," she added carefully, for my sake. That fine point was one of the new details I had reluctantly added this week.

"Yes, yes, yes," I muttered. There really was no sense in getting embarrassed, I told myself. Both Amelia and Pam were very sexually tolerant beings and quite comfortable talking about sexual matters, so I needed to relax. I finished my glass of wine.

"Well, statues are supposed to be a warning to pay more attention to your own personal affairs and less to others," Amelia said. What? I pay attention to my own problems. I can't help it if I like to help others. It's called _compassion_.

She continued. "Flying has to do with exploring your conscious mind and is often related to sex and desire. Of course, we all know Eric can fly so maybe that's the connection to the statue." Besides the sex and desire connection, of course.

"And the genitals, when pertaining to a man," Amelia went on, "relate to general potency, vigor and power." I let that idea sink in.

Pam chuckled. "Well, _knowing_ my master the way I do, there is no doubt about his potency, power, or 'endowment,' as you call it. He is worshipped by women so it is not surprising that you would associate him with a beautiful god, Sookie," Pam said smugly. It was hard to tell if she was more proud of Eric or of her intimate knowledge of his body.

"But the fact that she thinks of Eric as a statue is also disturbing," Amelia added, looking through her notes. "It symbolizes a lack of communication with him. She may feel the relationship is inflexible or going nowhere." Amelia seemed sad about that last part.

Maybe her interpretation about this part was true. Statues are cold and unyielding, much like vampires. Did some part of me equate that hardness with his emotions? Eric didn't have a heart but he did have feelings. He cared about Pam, he cared about his 'retinue', and he cared about me. That was the simple truth. My diary writings this week made me realize that Eric was most likely questioning his feelings as much as I was. You don't take bullets and risk your life repeatedly for someone you _don't _care about, right?

I got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen with Pam's empty bottle and my empty wine glass. I needed a little break from these revelations. "Refills anyone?" I tried to kill some time in the kitchen, wiping down the counters, slowly opening a new bottle of wine, organizing the cutlery drawer. I looked up to see Pam in the doorway.

"Come, Sookie, you are doing that 'avoidance thing' again. At this rate, it will be daylight before we even get through half of your dream," she said. I looked at her and sighed. She was right-- we needed to get this over with. Pam turned back to the living room and I followed her lead, bringing the bottle of wine and my glass with me.

Pam and I settled in and Amelia took the floor again. "So, Sookie, we were last talking about a lack of communication." Right. With a statue. "It's interesting that you also dreamt about your cell phone not working. That shows that communication is an area that needs repair or extra care right now. Who were you trying to call?" she asked.

I thought about it. "I don't remember. I just know that I needed help and I thought calling would be the solution." That was an honest answer. It bothered me that I didn't actually know whom I was trying to reach but the important point seemed, at least to me, that the phone wouldn't work.

"Since Eric bought you the cell phone, Sookie, I would have to say that you were trying to reach out to _him_ for help," Amelia concluded. "Maybe it means you need to speak to him in person about things, rather than on the phone."

Communication problems. Check. "I know that he wants to have a talk, and I know we need to have a talk, but I am just not _ready_ to have a talk," I admitted to both of them.

"You may not be ready to talk in waking life, but it seems like you want to try to in your dream," Amelia said.

"Sookie, why must there be so much emphasis on having 'a talk' with Eric, anyway?" Pam asked. "I just read somewhere that it is not always a good idea to lay all of your emotional cards on the table, so to speak."

"Advice from Dear Abby, again?" I asked.

"No, someone named Charlaine something. I read it on her website," Pam replied. "And besides, I doubt when Eric sees you in person again that _talking_ will be foremost on his mind. He is male, after all." Sometimes Pam made good sense.

"Let's get back to the cell phone," Amelia said. "Remember I told you that colors are important? Well, your _red_ phone could mean heat, passion, fire, or anger. This may be how you feel about a problem or behavior in life." I guess it doesn't matter that the actual phone, in real life, happens to _be_ red.

"Blood is red. Eric's car is red," Pam added helpfully. Can you guess the color of the coat Eric bought me? Hmm…. maybe we should just call this Eric Analysis.

"Teeth, let's get to the teeth," I said. At least my teeth weren't red in the dream, surely a good sign. "Why would my teeth be falling out?" I wondered

"Ooh, that's an interesting one, if I remember correctly," Amelia said. She shuffled through her papers. "It says that teeth can represent an important relationship. So the condition of the teeth reflects the condition of the relationship. Healthy teeth mean a healthy relationship." She paused. "So I guess your rotting teeth could signify the deterioration of a certain relationship." I looked at her in disbelief. I wonder what braces could mean.

"Teeth remind me of fangs," Pam said. "Perhaps your loss of teeth reflects your desire to become a vampire and have fangs instead." I did not like that idea at all and told Pam as much. "Touchy, touchy, Sookie," she laughed.

To ease the tension between us, Amelia focused on another topic, one of my new entries this week which I was _sure_ was sexual in nature. "So, Sookie, you added something in your journal about realizing your hands were tightly tied with rope at the end of the dream."

That, of course, got an immediate response from Pam. "Oh, if you are 'into' bondage, Sookie, I would be glad to loan you some handcuffs I own. They work very well and are 'vampire-friendly'-- there isn't an ounce of silver in them." Maybe I am a little bit kinky because her offer sounded tempting.

"Oh, I don't think it's a sex thing," Amelia said and I was surprised. "Sookie probably feels restrained or restricted by someone or something." Or maybe I just liked being tied up.

"And I found more symbols in your dreams regarding relationship issues," Amelia said. Why was I not surprised? "Remember the water stuff in your dream? Water is a sign of an important emotional situation. The _condition_ of the water is significant, just like with the teeth. Do you remember what the water was like by the statue, Sookie?" she asked.

"Yes, it was a gentle stream…" I recalled.

"That shows a calm emotional state or a romantic/love connection. Later in the dream, after you missed your plane, it was storming outside, right? That indicates a more challenging emotional situation you are facing," Amelia stated. Well, of course it was more challenging: I was naked, penniless, and plane-less.

"Let's talk about missing the plane, Sookie," Pam said. "I have my own personal theory about this topic," she said with a wink. Oh boy.

"Right," I said. "Well, I'm begging the desk attendant to let me on the plane but I don't have any money and the plane leaves without me. Sometimes it's a bus or a train instead of a plane, but it's always the same scenario."

Amelia consulted one of her books. "It says that 'transportation vehicles symbolize the ability to move and act in the world. Missing one means that you are having a hard time finding motivation'." What in the world does _that_ imply? I act and move just fine.

"Is there something else it could mean?" I asked. She checked her smaller dream dictionary. "Hmm… this book says you might feel helpless and trapped, or are being held back." Not much better.

"May I offer _my_ interpretation, now?" Pam suggested. Amelia and I nodded. I was sure this was going to be interesting.

"Freud stresses the more _erotic_ nature of dreams," she began. "There are long _phallic_ objects, such as, say an airplane, train or bus; and there are _hollow_ objects or containers for them, such as, say an airport hanger, train tunnel, or bus station. Put these objects together and it becomes _obvious_ what Sookie has really been missing in her life."

Leave it to Pam to understand Freud perfectly.

We both stared at Pam, me in utter shock and Amelia in amazement. "That's brilliant!" Amelia cried out. "That makes perfect sense, Pam. A _much_ better explanation for that part of the dream than what I came up with," she gushed.

Yes, _of course_, I was simply missing not having Eric's airplane in my terminal. Why didn't I think of that?

Despite the excitement of the airplane sex talk, I couldn't help yawning and Amelia looked at her watch. It was getting late and we humans were starting to feel the strain and the alcohol. Pam, as usual, was still ready for action. "We only have one more topic to cover, Sookie," Amelia said, "and then we can call it a night." Amen.

"Of all of the things you dreamt about," Amelia started, "the most concerning one has to do with your lack of money." Hell, lack of money was a concern of mine when I was awake, too. "Money symbolizes what you value in life. So losing money means you feel separated from a sense of meaning; your values have changed or altered over time and it bothers you."

This issue did strike a chord with me. During the course of my relationship with vampires and supes, I had done some morally questionable things that had not exactly been in line with how I was raised, murder being at the top of the list. It was justified self-defense in all instances, but it takes time to come to terms with taking a life, even an undead one.

Not only did I question my own actions, but what about the actions of those around me? I had heard more hateful, ugly thoughts than I could count; had witnessed unspeakable horrors at Rhodes; and had experienced firsthand the harm that beings can inflict on one another, human or not. Things like that shake you to the core and make anyone rethink their values system, assuming they had one.

I didn't think I could take much more tonight-- my head was swimming with mixed thoughts and I had just been bombarded with more information than I could process. Amelia tried to summarize her main points, which only added more to my confusion.

According to Pam and Amelia's analysis, my subconscious mind was telling me a few important things: Eric was someone I lusted after, someone quite potent and graciously endowed; I felt a romantic connection to him but our emotional relationship varied from calm to challenging (depending on the weather); a relationship with him was probably going nowhere (or else deteriorating faster than tooth decay); I had major communication issues and needed a new cell phone (preferably not in red); and I felt restrained and vulnerable (or liked to be tied up and naked). Did I leave anything out? Oh yes, I forgot… I lacked motivation in my life because I was missing Eric's train in my tunnel.

The absurdity of it all was clouding my head. Tomorrow I would have to think things through more clearly. We said our goodnights and I left Pam and Amelia still chatting in the living room. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, a nice dreamless sleep for a change.

**A/N****: Thank you for hanging in there with me through this chapter! It was challenging to write because of the dialogue and explanations. And thank you to the many readers who listed me on their favorite story and author alerts… I was overwhelmed by the response!!**

**I hope to have the story completed in the next day or two. The next (final) chapter should make those patient Eric lovers out there happy ******** VampLover1**


	5. Reactions I

**A/N**_**:**_** The last chapter became so long that I divided it into two separate chapters. I am posting both of these together, completing the story. Enjoy!**

_**Chapter 5: Reactions, Part I**_

I didn't dream at all that night, at least not that I could remember. And I slept pretty late, trying to make up for the last few exhausting weeks. The smell of coffee and something sweet was a pleasant reminder that it was finally the weekend. I guessed Amelia had made breakfast; but looking at the display on my clock and the sun streaming in my window, it was actually closer to lunch time.

I stretched and rolled around on my bed, savoring a few peaceful moments. Of course, any tranquility I felt was short-lived as soon as I thought back to the previous evening. Did we really pick apart every aspect of my dreams and come up with some absurd explanations? By the light of day, the memory of the whole conversation with Pam and Amelia seemed almost surreal. Maybe some of the ideas mentioned had merit, but overall it was laughable. How could teeth or water or colors really mean those things?

And the craziest interpretation of all? Pam's whole "train in the tunnel" analogy, hands down. Ha! I mean, of course I missed having good, okay, _great_ sex, but who wouldn't? And to compare Eric's gracious plenty to a bus or a train… well, maybe there were some similarities in that department. I sighed and decided to get my head out of the gutter.

I hopped out of bed and followed the aroma of coffee into the kitchen. There was a note propped up on the kitchen table, next to a plate of cinnamon rolls.

_**Sook- Gone to Tray's. **_

_**Have fun this weekend!**_

_**Be back Sunday night- Amelia**_

Well that was good news and the pot of coffee she left brewing for me was even better news. I poured myself a cup and stretched out on a chair, nibbling on a roll.

I had the whole day ahead of me and nothing I had to do. Perfect. Of course there were some things I _should_ do, like laundry and grocery shopping, but I felt like being lazy for a change. I deserved it. The one thing that I wanted to do, now that I had the time, was look through my dream journal and do some diary writing. Last night had provided me with plenty of material to ponder and I was anxious to get my thoughts on paper.

Where was my journal, anyway? I went into the living room, expecting to see it on the coffee table with Amelia's stuff but the table was cleared off. Amelia must have gathered it with her books and notes and left it in her room. I dragged myself upstairs, feeling like I was trespassing in my own home. I went into her bedroom and hesitantly poked around her stuff. There was a pile of dream books on her desk, complete with notes but no journal. Hmm. Maybe it was somewhere else. I scanned the room but saw no sign of it. Maybe she left it outside my bedroom door or placed it in my room before she left this morning? I was having a sinking feeling about this.

Nope, no dream journal either inside or outside my bedroom. Crap. She must have taken it with her to Tray's. No… worse. She must have given it to Pam. Shit! Pam would give it to Eric… oh my God!

It wouldn't have been so bad if only my dream notes were in there. But if anyone read my diary entries, _especially_ Eric, it would be… catastrophic. The intimate and private thoughts I wrote down were not meant for anyone else's eyes but my own. Period.

I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Amelia.

And there would be no dreams of guilt over my "values system" afterwards either, you could be sure of that. How could she violate my privacy like this? She was supposed to be a friend! And what about that lame promise of "whatever happens at Sookie's, stays at Sookie's"? Ugh! This was simply unforgivable.

I was starting to hyperventilate. Okay, Sookie, calm down. You are probably overreacting for no reason. There is a simple explanation for this and you are going to call over to Tray's house now and find out from Amelia exactly where she put the journal. And then everything will be alright.

After my little pep talk, I dialed Tray's number but no one was home. Or else no one was answering because Tray can afford Caller ID, unlike me, so Amelia _knows_ it's me calling about my journal and doesn't want to talk to me.

Okay, so I was really losing it.

The answering machine picked up and I tried not to sound homicidal as I left a message. "Hi Tray," I said through gritted teeth, "this is Sookie. Please ask Amelia to call me at home as soon as possible." Deep breaths, in and out. Breathe. "Thank you." See? I could use good manners even on the brink of committing manslaughter. Gran would be so proud of me.

I paced around the house for the next two hours like a caged tiger (okay, painful analogy), wondering if the devastation would be as bad as I thought. The phone rang and I jumped to answer it.

"Sookie?" Amelia asked. "Is everything okay? You were a little strange on the answering machine." She actually sounded worried.

"Where is my dream journal!?" I snapped at her, practically jumping through the phone line to reach her.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I thought you took it with you when you went to bed last night." She seemed surprised and sincere.

I calmed down a little. "No, I didn't. I must have left it on the coffee table next to your stuff. I didn't think about it until this morning but the table was clear and I couldn't find it anywhere." There was no need to inform her that I went through the things in her bedroom.

"Well, that's strange. I gathered my books and papers this morning, not wanting to leave a mess while I was away. It was so late last night when I finished talking with Pam…" and then she trailed off as we both reached the same conclusion.

Never trust a vampire. "Get me a stake," I hissed.

"Now calm down, Sookie. I'm sure that Pam thought she was just helping things between you and Eric." I could sense Amelia struggling to find something positive to say.

"Is it _so_ bad if Eric reads about your dreams, anyway? Maybe this will open up the lines of communication for you two," she said in her best let's-make-lemonade-out-of-lemons voice.

I tried to calmly explain to her how the dream journal was so much more than just that, how private my diary entries were, how mortified I would be if Eric read them.

"First of all, Pam doesn't know that your diary entries are even in there; so, Eric may never even read past the first section, anyway. I never did, right?" True.

"Secondly, you should give Eric more credit than you do, Sookie. If he does realize your diary writings are in there, he may be enough of a gentleman to stop reading, out of respect for your privacy." Not true. Eric would do anything to gain an advantage, I was sure of it. Plus, he would have some warped way of justifying it, too.

"Third, and I don't want to sound critical, Sookie, but _why_ would you write such private things in a journal that you knew might be seen by other people? What were you thinking?? Freud would say that some small part of you actually _wanted_ to have your innermost thoughts and desires made known."

"I can't believe you think that, Amelia!" I shouted into the phone. "That is simply nuts! Why would I want that?!" I was at my breaking point for tolerance of psychological explanations. No more.

"Sookie, just listen to me. You don't have the courage to say these private things directly to Eric, am I right?" I mumbled some kind of response back to her. "But if he _reads_ it, then he knows what you're thinking and feeling without you having to say it yourself. It's out of your hands, out of your control. Problem solved."

I stood there stunned. Was it possible? Was I such a coward about facing Eric that my subconscious would do anything to make my feelings known to him? The crazy dreams, the intimate journal entries-- maybe it was just like Octavia had said to me: your mind is telling you things that you don't want to see with your own eyes.

"Sookie? You still there?" Amanda asked. "Um, yeah," I said, still upset but definitely more subdued. "Thanks, Amelia, I've gotta go. Bye." and I abruptly hung up the phone.

I spent the rest of the day tormenting myself about what had happened, trying to come to terms with it. Maybe it _was_ better for Eric to know my true feelings, despite my fears and worries. I didn't think I could keep going on like this any more.

And I finally came to an important conclusion: whether the dreams really meant something or whether it was all just nonsense, my mind was telling me to finally face reality. Stopping Eric from reading my notebook was out of my control, but what he and I did about it afterwards was not.


	6. Reactions II

"**The meeting of two personalities is like ****the contact of two chemical substances; **

**if there is any reaction, both are transformed."**

**Carl Jung**

_**Chapter 6: Reactions, Part II**_

I felt in my heart that Eric had my journal, although how much he had read and knew remained to be seen. Would Pam have had time to pass it along to him last night? Or would she wait until he awoke this evening? I expected to hear from Eric shortly, one way or another. This whole situation would be far too tempting for him to resist.

By evening, I had calmed down somewhat and tried to simply enjoy the tranquility of my empty house. Earlier, I had changed into an old t-shirt and sweat pants. In case Eric _did_ make an appearance tonight, I didn't want him to think I was expecting him. Besides, it was a late weekend night and a tired girl had a right to relax in her own home, right? Ahh, the mind games we play with ourselves.

I wasn't too surprised when he rang my doorbell around 10:00 on Saturday night. Minutes before his arrival, I could sense him through our blood bond and I had immediately felt relaxed and happy. It was a welcome relief from the emotional turmoil of the day.

I was filled with an unexplainable eagerness to open the front door. There Eric stood, all 6'4'' of him framing my doorway, his long blond hair sweeping across his shoulders. He was a glorious sight to behold. As he bent down to brush my cheek with a kiss, he had a warm smile for me. "Sookie," was all he said and that one word sent tingles through my body. I managed to mumble something like "hi" and smiled back at him.

He was dressed in perfect jeans and a snug long-sleeved black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles in all the right places. Against his hip he was clutching a single red rose and a book that looked like my journal. My heart started racing when I saw my notebook in his possession, and he immediately sensed my anxiety. "Relax, lover," he told me and his words felt comforting and sexy at the same time.

"Pam asked me to return this to you," and he held out my journal. "She said she took it 'by mistake' last night." He waited for my response to Pam's obvious lie.

I just looked at him, trying to detect any sign that might indicate what he had read in the notebook. Not a clue. "And this," he added, indicating the rose, "is from me, lover. I hope it is to your liking."

Eric has never given me flowers; he buys me practical things like driveway gravel, not sentimental things like roses. What was he up to?

"Um, thank you, Eric, it's lovely," I said politely as I took the two items from him. I invited him in, although I was sure he still had an open invitation. As he sauntered past me, it took all of my willpower not to touch his beautiful body, or grab his perfect butt. I'm sure he could feel my desire through the bond because he turned around unexpectedly to look at me with a wide grin.

Get hold of yourself, Sookie.

I followed him inside and decided to simply cut to the chase. "Did you read my journal, Eric?" I asked, willing him to be honest with me. He searched my face for a moment. "Yes. The notes about your dreams were fascinating."

No mention of the diary entries. Maybe he didn't find them or maybe he was just toying with me. The damn blood bond didn't offer a clue. What's the point of being bonded if you can't even tell if the other person is lying?

"Is that the only part you read? The dreams?" I asked tentatively.

"Why? Is there another part?" he asked, features unreadable.

"No, of course not," I corrected. "Um, would you care for some blood, Eric?" I asked, shifting away from the topic.

"What kind are you offering me, Sookie?" he responded in a very seductive way.

"Trueblood, Eric, you know, the _bottled_ kind," I said, rolling my eyes at him. He smiled and nodded, and I left for the kitchen to bring him back a drink. We settled onto the living room couch, with me trying to ignore the sexual tension that was building between us.

Okay, keep poking around, Sookie, see what he knows. "So… did your readings provide you with any insight?" I tried to ask casually.

"Much. I'm flattered that you are having dreams about me, lover," he said in his typically confident way. Glad my dreams could make his ego even bigger.

"You know, Eric, my dreams are not necessarily about _you_. They're open to interpretation." I tried to be nonchalant.

"Ah, yes, _interpretation_," he replied. "Tell me, Sookie, do you agree with your recent 'analysis'? Pam shared some highlights with me." I could only imagine.

"How nice of her to fill you in." Damn Pam. This is _all_ her fault. "And to answer your question, most of what I heard last night was ridiculous."

"Why? Because you heard things you didn't want to?" He looked at me intensely with those beautiful blue eyes as he moved in closer. Yikes.

I tried to be self-assured. "No, because what I heard _was_ ridiculous, Eric. I don't need my crazy dreams to tell me what to do in real life."

He reflected for a moment, as if deciding a course of action to take. "So 'what you do in real life' reflects your true feelings, your true desires, Sookie?" The intensity of his questioning was suffocating. Now I was _positive _that he had read my diary entries and I was having a hard time processing that.

"You… know…?" I managed to squeak out.

"Know what?" he asked innocently but he was far from innocent.

We were at an impasse. He wouldn't admit to having read my diary and I wouldn't acknowledge what I had written. Tough situations call for tough reactions. So I bolted.

"I need to get myself a drink," I stammered. "Be right back…" But with his vampire speed he was standing in front of me before I even made it to the doorway.

"Always running away, Sookie," he chided. "I noticed that pattern with you from early on. And that just won't do." He moved in to nibble on my ear and the lust between us was palpable. "Wouldn't you rather be running _to_ me, like in your dreams?" He started working his tongue along my neckline. My knees may have been weak but my feet were firmly planted now. I was going nowhere.

He paused in his licking long enough to whisper in my ear. "Would you like to know _my_ interpretation, lover? I _assure_ you that you will like what you hear," he said smoothly.

I was incapable of speaking, his hold on me was that intoxicating. I nodded my agreement and I was a bit stunned when he seized me by my shoulders. His fangs extended slightly as he pushed me against the wall behind me.

He pinned me with a predatory gaze and I tried to remember to keep breathing. "You see me as a statue because you admire my beauty, my perfection. There's nothing wrong with that, lover… I am enduring… powerful and strong." No one ever said Eric had a self-confidence problem.

"You desire me and appreciate all I have to offer, especially my 'plentiful endowments','' he added cockily, no pun intended.

"And I am like a statue in other ways, Sookie," and he paused for effect. "I am so _hard_," and he moved in still closer, pressing his _statuesque_ body against me to clearly illustrate his point. Point understood.

I had little resistance left at this moment and my libido was quite happy about where things seemed to be heading. My fears and concerns about him reading my private writings seemed to magically evaporate, although I had a sneaky suspicion that the bond's powerful influence had something to do with that.

"You want me to sink my teeth into you. You want to be naked around me." What? I guess he was continuing his interpretation. "You feel the red-hot passion and fire between us, lover, and you want _more_…" And he moved his hands from my shoulders and ran them up and down my arms.

Why didn't he kiss me? It seemed like a perfect kissing moment if there ever was one.

I moved my arms and clasped them around his neck, doing a little neck nibbling and licking of my own. I was practically on my tiptoes to reach him so he bent down to accommodate me.

"And the water is important," he whispered.

"Hmm? Water?" I asked, unable to abandon my oral activity long enough to focus on his words. I began sucking on his earlobe until he sighed.

"I can calm you like a gentle stream… or arouse your passions like a raging storm…"

Well that was quite poetic and _very_ unlike Eric. I stopped my nibbling and we just looked at each other with questions and burning desire. I could tell something bigger was coming, something unsaid before now.

Eric removed my hands from around his neck and held them in his own. "You want me, you need me, and you love me." Simple and to the point. He looked to me for confirmation. I nodded, part of me relieved that things were finally out in the open.

I waited for something back from him. Did he feel the same way? Would he admit to anything? I couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "And you, Eric?" I asked. "What do _you_ want?"

He looked at me with an expression that held more meaning than I could understand. "I want the same, Sookie. I feel the same. I love you, as well." I let the enormity of what just passed between us sink in.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head, and we embraced for a while, saying nothing. After some time, however, the seriousness subsided and our passions took over again.

"I suppose you'll want to have a _talk_ about this sometime?" I asked playfully.

"Oh yes, lover, but certainly not _now_." I felt a surge of lust rising between us and I knew I was in for a bumpy ride.

He suddenly raised my arms above my head and forced them against the wall, firmly holding both of my wrists in one of his large hands. I gasped in surprise. "Shall I tie you up until you beg me for release?" he growled softly. Gulp.

His eyes scanned the room as if searching for something to restrain me with, and I panicked, just slightly. Big gulp.

"Er, Eric, no, no, not really, that was just a dream."

"A dream? Or a desire, Sookie?" He looked at me with a wicked grin, his fangs extended fully, and I felt a wave of excitement building down below.

He kept a tight grip on my wrists as he used his other hand to explore my body at leisure. He started running his fingers down my chest, caressing my breasts through my t-shirt. His hand then moved under my shirt for better access, lightly pinching each nipple until I moaned. He circled my stomach and sides, teasing me as he slowly moved lower and lower.

While his hands were occupied, he nuzzled into my neck, his tongue arousing me, his fangs grazing me until I shivered. His free hand eased into my sweat pants and then slipped under the waistband of my panties. His mouth went to my ear and he whispered, "I just thought of another connection to water, lover… I know how to make you _wet." _And I gave a slight gasp as two of his long fingers slid into me. I arched my body to meet his hand, anxious for more, my arms still up against the wall, my wrists still locked in Eric's death grip.

We writhed and bucked against each other, still fully clothed and getting hotter by the minute. The urge to move my hands, to touch and explore him, was overwhelming. Eric tightened his hold on me as I struggled to free myself, which only added more fuel to our building fire. His fingers began moving rhythmically inside of me, hitting my special spot over and over, starting to push me over the edge.

"Please, Eric, please," I begged, desperately wanting him to send me just a little farther. I was almost there. I ached for him more than I could stand.

"Please, what? Don't you like what I'm doing, lover?" he teased. Then he expertly moved his fingers just so, sending an exquisite explosion through me, making me cry out in sheer pleasure. I would have collapsed if his firm body hadn't been against me, supporting me.

He slowly removed his fingers from inside of me and I shook at the loss of contact. He gently released my wrists and I immediately ran my hands up and down his back and arms, feeling the hard, toned muscles through his shirt. I raked my nails across his back then moved lower to grab onto that perfect butt through his jeans. God, how I had missed that part of him. He moaned at the contact and began moving more steadily against me, looking for his own release. I ran a hand roughly through his hair as I eagerly matched his body's thrusting with my own.

Our mouths finally connected and Eric's kisses were as incredible as I remembered them. We were drawn into a steady rhythm of tongue, lips, fangs. I ran my tongue slowly over his fangs, letting him scrape it and taste my blood. His arousal quickly magnified and I could feel myself building to a climax again, intensified by our blood bond I supposed.

He lifted me up and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, wanting to be even closer, wishing the fabric between our bodies could magically disappear. He must have had the same thought because the next moment we were both on the floor, tearing off each other's clothing, desperate to feel the connection of bare skin.

We were entangled then, reacquainting ourselves with each other's topography and it was a sublime reunion. Every inch of him was magnificent, gracious plenty included. We used our hands and mouths and tongues to fully explore each other's bodies, and when he nuzzled my inner thigh, wanting to bite, I was more than ready.

"Look at me, lover," he said hoarsely, and his words transported me back to our first time together, thrilling me to no end. Our eyes locked and then he turned his head to bite me and I was screaming in ecstasy. He yelled as well, in a language still unfamiliar to me yet familiar in its passion and need. We both climaxed and clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks and intensity of the moment. He returned his mouth to my thigh to lick the bite wound, among other things. He looked back at me with a knowing grin.

God, I was a fool to have avoided this for so long.

After hours of "reconnecting," we eventually ended up in my bed, wrapped in each other's arms, exhausted and spent. "That was… incredible, Eric," I choked out, unable to find the right adjective to describe the evening's activities.

"Yes, lover, it was," he replied, softly kissing my forehead. He was quiet and I could tell he was thinking about something. "Our blood bond," he said, "it heightened the experience for us. We could feel each other's desires and satisfaction," he explained with a smirk. Well I could certainly live with that aspect of a blood bond.

My thoughts returned to what brought us together tonight: my dreams. "Do you _really_ believe any of that dream stuff, Eric?" He absently stroked my hair, seeming to ponder the question for the first time.

"Well, it has been over a thousand years since I had personal experience with dreams, lover. But since you, my stubborn one, were unable to admit the truth to yourself, maybe your mind was helping you out." Then he chuckled, "I must admit that I like the way your _mind_ works."

He pulled me on top of him, and I straddled him tightly, not really surprised that he was ready and able to show me yet again how _his_ mind (and body) worked.

*************************************************

I awoke in the late morning to find Eric gone. I smiled as I thought back to our passionate night together and what we had finally admitted. On my nightstand was my dream journal, returned to its rightful place, with the red rose laying across the cover. I lifted the rose to breathe in its heavenly scent, brushing the soft petals across my cheek.

I placed the delicate flower next to me on the bed and picked up the journal. There would certainly be much to write about today. I flipped through my numerous writings, thinking how my fears now seemed so exaggerated, my concerns so unfounded. It's remarkable how mind-blowing sex can change your perspective about things.

As I opened to my last entry, I was shocked to see beautiful, elaborate script filling the page. My heart skipped a beat as I traced the letters with trembling fingers.

_**My lover, my Sookie,**_

_**Please do not be upset with me for reading your journal. It fills me with great pleasure to know your thoughts, your feelings, your true desires; for how else may I know how to please you?**_

_**I regret that I am unable to dream, for to journey with you when I slumber each day would bring me no greater fulfillment. But know that I carry a part of you with me always—we are blood-bonded and our connection runs deeper than consciousness.**_

_**May your dreams be sweet and filled only with pleasant thoughts of me, lover.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**E**_

Who knows if Jung and Freud were correct in their dream theories? The human mind is a _very_ tricky thing to understand-- trust me, I know. The truth is, people see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe. But after that night with Eric, my crazy dreams finally stopped and they have yet to return. The only dreams I have these days are sweet and sexy and Viking-filled. Coincidence? I think not.

*****************************************************************

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review... your feedback and suggestions definitely motivate my writing.**


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